Ask any mom, new or experienced, and she’ll tell you a lot of things have changed since she had her children: her body, her sleep schedule, her marriage. But for me, motherhood has also changed how…I watch TV, and I don’t mean just the depressingly decreasing frequency at which I do it. Sex and the City — which celebrates its 20th anniversary today — is an entirely different show to me now than it was two decades ago. In 1998, when the series began, I was a pre-teen at a private… >> Read More
In the age of "alternative facts" and "fake news," my conversations with my 5-year-old have taken on a whole new cadence.
“I don’t like green beans,” Ravi said.
“That’s asparagus,”…I corrected. “Careful,” Yael, my partner, muttered, warning me under her breath. “Well, we can have different opinions, Tati,” Ravi sharply retorted. I know I’m entering a bit of a minefield so I tread mindfully. “Ravi, do you know what facts are?” I asked. “No.” At least she’s honest. “Facts,” I explained, “are what things… >> Read More
The car is our place. Many of our most poignant family memories are set in my blue, messy, high-mileage Toyota Highlander — it is where the magic happens. While in transit, we’ve had seated dance…parties, lots of laughs, and our fair share of conflicts. In a way, my car has become our safe place; we all feel protected in our assigned seats, and something about the comfort of the car — sitting there, staring out the window — allows us to open up and be just a bit more… >> Read More
I expected my oldest son to move out of the house after he turned 18. But I expected him to go to college — not to Moldova.
I expected him to be a car, a train, or a short airplane ride away,…coming home for major holidays, and maybe even some weekends (that laundry isn’t going to do itself!). I did not expect him to go for a 10-month immersive Russian-language program. No holidays, and definitely no weekends. His decision changed everything. Knowing that I wouldn’t see him from early September until late May really drove home… >> Read More
Our daughter is standing in the kitchen, a heavy rock tucked under her arm, her hands cradling its awkward heft. I recognize the rock, one of many carefully selected and brought home from summer…vacations at the beach. This one had earned a prime location on the dresser in her room, one in which she hasn’t lived for two years. I can feel the weight of that rock as if I’m the one holding it except that its load is in my gut, in the pressure of tears gathering,… >> Read More